


Meet Your Demise

by renegadeartist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Sadstuck, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadeartist/pseuds/renegadeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>some sadstuck one-shots based off multiple songs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holes

**Author's Note:**

> First up is John, based off the song Holes by Passenger. Feel free to listen to the song while reading and to suggest any songs or characters for me to write next.

The wind whipped past, a welcome relief of the nothing he’d felt for so long. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His life had been dictated by that game for so long now, but he was free. But he didn’t feel free. He felt trapped, cut off from his family. Or the poor copy that had been created when they beat the game.

 

They weren’t the same. _They just weren’t._

He recognized the buildings on either side of the street. They were buildings he’d stared at on days long past when he had nothing else to do. He felt the hole in his heart open up. Something he hadn’t let happen for so long now, he’d almost forgot about the pain it carried. But no, it was still there.

 

The house in front of him was his home. He’d lived there for years of his life, but not anymore. He supposed it would have been normal, if he’d just moved out. Not been evacuated forcefully by that hell he _chose_ to play. The house was missing the Alchemeter, and the cake in the yard and the chest on the roof. But it was his home.

 

And at the same time it wasn’t.

 

Not anymore.

 

There was a child playing on the pogo ride he remembered. Not a cheap copy, or a poor excuse for a hammer, the pogo ride he’d had his fair share of injuries on. The child was laughing, his glasses almost falling off his small face.

 

He was laughing, until he wasn’t riding the pogo anymore.

 

His small form was propelled off the toy and into the ground, his knee scraping the dirt and drawing blood. He started crying, soft at first, but it quickly escalated into something reminiscent of screaming.

 

The boy, or, more appropriately, man, was about to rush forward and help, but he stopped when the door opened. The hole was back, sucking in all feeling like a black hole. There was his father.

 

Or a poor copy of him, he wasn’t the same. He wouldn’t hug him ever again, tell him he was proud of him. He would never hate the clowns he insisted be around the house.

 

The ones he got because he believed that John liked them, the ones that weren’t there anymore.

 

The man that looked _so much_ like his father rushed to the side of the boy that wasn’t him. He wasn’t John. Not anymore. He picked the boy up and carried him inside, no doubt to clean his injury.

 

The man that was no longer John Egbert started walking away, the wind still around him, the hole back and bigger than before.

 

He shoved his hands into his pockets, and felt something in them. It was a small white card. There were words on the card, but they were blurry. John felt his face, realizing he’d been crying. The card said something he’d read so many times before, but not for so, so long.

 

Happy Birthday son, I am so proud of you.

 

The hole began to close, and the wind picked up around Maple Valley, Washington.


	2. Wires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Rose, based off Wires by The Neighborhood. Again, you can suggest songs if you want, I only have Jade written after this. Enjoy!

She didn’t know where she was. It was dark all around her.

 

She didn’t know who he was. There was only darkness in her mind.

 

She could feel her body moving. Was it her body? Was that what she was feeling? She didn’t like it. There was something wrong with it. She could feel it, in the dark. The dark frightened her. She didn’t like what was in there.

 

There were noises, sounds, things she felt she shouldn’t hear. She didn’t understand the words, or the meaning.

 

She wasn’t quite sure that she should, or that she ever could.

 

There was a faint light in the dark.

 

Was that there before? She didn’t think so. It looked inviting, but at the same time she felt she shouldn’t go towards it.

 

She felt herself moving towards it. She could see things through it. It was a boy. He was wearing bright blue pajamas. She should know him, of that she was certain. But she could see herself, in a sense. She was dressed in unfamiliar clothing, her skin a dark grey, her hair a stark white.

 

She tried to say something to the boy, but the things that came out of her mouth were things even she did not understand.

 

They were walking. She didn’t know where, but they were walking, and she knew it was important. The boy kept talking. She couldn’t understand him, but she knew somehow he was talking about his father. And her mother.

 

They were in a tower, the tiles under her feet a slate grey. There was blood on the ground. She didn’t know what they were from. What if they were from her? She quickly patted herself down, not finding anything.

 

The blue boy next to her said something, something that got her attention.

 

Rose.

 

That was her name. It all came back to her, the white text, the cue ball, her mother.

 

The same mother that was lying dead in front of her.

 

Her rage enveloped her, focusing on the monster that was undoubtedly responsible for her mother’s death.

 

The mother that she would never see again, the mother that wouldn’t stay up to ungodly hours vacuuming and drinking more than she should, the person she loved above all else, even if she would never say so.

 

 _Had_ never said so.

 

_Because of that game._

She knew at some level what would happen, yet she still played it. The game that brought so much loss, brought on such nightmares she would never have been able to think up on her own. A strange feeling enveloped her.

 

It was rage.

 

She lept at the devilbeast, registering for a moment the blue boy lying on the ground in a puddle of blood. She didn’t know when or how it happened, but it was unimportant. She began lashing out at the killer, attempting to hurt it like it had hurt her.

 

Then she realized who the blue boy was.

 

He was John. He was her friend. The one that always listened to her, put up with her. He was the friend she always needed, now lying in his own blood next to his father. Her hesitation in her attack allowed the Dersite to thrust his sword into her stomach.

 

She was falling. Down, down, down. She couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t see anything. The dark was back this time, except she welcomed it with open arms. It wasn’t like she had much to live for, now that her mother and friend were both dead.

 

The darkness was almost all encompassing when she remembered.

 

Dave. Jade.

 

Those words floated into her conscience, and suddenly she didn’t want to die. She still had two other friends that needed her, friends that would tell her not to give up.

 

But she could see her mother. And she didn’t want to lose her mother again. _Not again._

She was falling. No, that wasn’t right. She was _flying._

 

She knew where she was. It was Derse. The planet she dreamed on. It seemed she had gotten a second chance.

 

She saw her mother one more time before she discarded that train of thought.

 

She had work to do.


	3. Northern Downpour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Jade, inspired by the song Northern Downpour by Panic! at the Disco. Enjoy!

She stared at the sky, the moon shining bright, and the stars twinkling like so many tiny diamonds. She felt the warmth of Bec, sleeping next to her. The warm tropical breeze that always seemed to flow through the island was blowing softly, ruffling her hair.

 

She was on the warm, dry grass, a pen in her hand and a paper on the ground. The pen was being dragged across the paper, the ink making dark scribbles befitting of a young six year old. She was writing a letter. She wasn’t sure who it was for, or why, but she felt like she should. There were only a few words on the paper, and they were barely legible even to the one who wrote them.

 

The moon rose higher and higher. The girl kept trying to write her letter, getting more and more frustrated with each line. Eventually she gave up, crumpling the paper and throwing it into the tall grass.

 

“Hey, Bec, do you think I’ll ever meet someone? Do you think I’ll ever not be alone? I don’t want to be alone anymore. I… I miss grandpa. I miss talking to someone, and them talking back. I know you’re always there for me, but you can’t talk.” The little girl asked, feeling tears welling up behind her eyes. She looked up at the sky, seeing the moon and all the stars. “Hey… do you think them up there can hear me? Do you think the moon knows me?”

 

Bec only let out a snore. “I didn’t think you would say anything. Well, maybe I could talk instead of write. Um… moon, do you think you could find me a friend? Someone I can talk to me and who’ll laugh with me? Maybe even who’ll give me a hug? I don’t know I just don’t want to be alone.” her eyes were getting heavy, but she didn’t want to sleep yet. She wasn’t done yet.

 

“If you could, I would really enjoy it. I could play games with them! I could play with them, and they would listen when I talk and talk when I don’t. I want someone who’ll make me feel better when I’m sad and… just be my friend.” She finished, and with one last look at the huge full moon, she whispered one thing.

 

“Hey, moon. Could you not leave? I don’t want to be alone anymore.” 


End file.
